This Is Us
by little-stone-owl
Summary: The story of the Marauders at Hogwarts and after, from the points of view of Remus and Sirius. Voldemort is recruiting werewolves in his first bid for power. In school, four students become good friends and conspirators. RLSB in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Remus Lupin was a normal child until the day he went to the store to buy licorice for Sora. That day took place when he was seven, walking home from school, thinking about that particular girl in his class, the one who he was certainly destined to marry, the one who loved licorice more than even chocolate.

The store was a small one, a little dirty, with its name in red light-up letters on the side. Remus had exactly ninety-five cents in his pocket. Entering, he found the licorice, put it on the counter, and paid for it, still too short to look the cashier in the eye when he said thank you. He headed out the back door to cut across the park. If he could get home in the next ten minutes, his parents would still be at work. He wouldn't have to tell them about his gift for the pretty girl in his class. Crushes were Remus's least favorite conversation topic, especially around his parents. He darted across the street, carefully, after looking both ways.

The park was his favorite place to be. It was where he played, memorized math facts, explored, wondered, cloud-watched, and even star-gazed, if he could sneak out at night. He thought of it as a safe place, a place to go when his parents argued or he was in trouble at school or was just having a bad day. He didn't take well to being cooped up indoors, and loved skies and trees and mist and creeks.

There was nobody else in the park that warm day in October. Remus hurried along the edge of a small grove of trees, clutching the package of licorice in his skinny arms. He made up a tune and began to hum it, just about to sing when the wind was knocked out of him and he went sprawling. Long claws sank into his back and side. Gasping, he curled into himself, and as teeth ripped his arm, he realized that he hadn't heard a bird sing since he had left the store. Whatever was attacking him was large, grey-furred, and odorous. Remus screamed, but terror and pain choked his voice until all that he could do was sob. He lay like that for a very long time and didn't realize the thing had gone until a raven cawed in the tree above him. And by then he was too weak to move.

His father found him, unconscious and bleeding into the grass, and screamed until an ambulance came.

The hospital could do nothing for Remus except drug him. His father, looking frightened and serious, said something to the doctor. The doctor gave him a blank look, smiled, and nodded. Remus was swept up in his father's arms; they turned on the spot, and the room melted away.

The new room was larger, brighter, and full of golden orbs that seemed to emit light. Remus lifted one arm, tried to touch one. It flinched away like something alive. He laughed, but it hurt to move that much. His father looked tense but said, "Welcome to Saint Mungo's, dear."

A man in lime green robes strode up to them. "I'd get him to the first floor as soon as poss-" He snapped his fingers, conjuring two stretchers as Mr. Lupin fainted.

"It's doubtful that the scars will ever heal," said Healer Spicer. "And there will be some... nasty side effects."

Remus's mother gasped and rushed forward to clasp her son's hand. It had been five days since the attack, and once Mrs. Lupin had Apparated and Mr. Lupin had been revived, neither had left the room where Remus slept. He had since woken, and was examining his bandages.

"It has been determined that your son has been bitten by a werewolf." The Healer met three gazes: Mr. Lupin's disbelief, Mrs. Lupin's terror, Remus's confusion.

"A... werewolf," said Mr. Lupin softly.

"We knew it might be," Mrs. Lupin said.

"I assume you are already familiar with the effects of lycanthropy?" Healer Spicer asked.

Mr. Lupin bowed his head. "Yes."

"Then I must have you sign these forms. The top one is for registration in the-"

"Excuse me," said Remus, "but what is lycra- lyconth- what do I have?"

The three adults looked at him pityingly, then at each other. His father spoke first. "Remus, people who have lycanthropy transform into a wolf one night a month. There's no cure, and it's a very painful process."

Remus leaned back into his pillow, feeling his mother's hand on his shoulder, not really seeing anyone. So the rest of his life would be regularly interrupted by wolfishness. That wouldn't be too bad. "Can I communicate with real wolves when I'm like that?"

Healer Spicer looked startled. "I would assume so, though I've never heard of a study on the subject."

Remus's father leaned forward, his expression gentle. "What you have to understand is that there is extreme prejudice against werewolves in the magical community. So many have been shunned entirely from society. They live in hiding, only with their own kind. Poverty levels are higher for them than for any other minority. So are suicide levels." Mrs. Lupin glanced warningly at her husband. Her grip on Remus' shoulder was viselike now.

"We haven't yet traced the attacker, but we are searching our archives." Healer Spicer stood up. "If you could fill out those forms before tonight. Questions can be posed to my aide or sent to me by owl. You will be free to leave once Healer Dawes delivers the medications."

"Are you okay, Remus?" His mother asked once the Healer had left.

"I think so," he said. "I suppose the wounds won't heal?"

"Never entirely," she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You'll have those scars forever."

His father sat on Remus's other side. "It's too much for a seven-year-old child."

"I can deal with it," said the tiny boy with the puncture wounds and torn skin. He sat very still. "Will I still be able to go to Hogwarts?"

There was a pause. His mother hugged him. "I don't know."

On the other side of London, a boy of about the same age stood on the roof of his house. The house was the size of a small castle. In his hand was a clear glass marble, which he was turning red, then purple, then blue. A breeze swept through his short, neat black hair. His bare feet gripped the shingles, which sank and leveled a little to keep him from falling. He shivered, and his cotton shirt lengthened and changed until it was a wool coat. He stood, holding his marble, for an hour.

"Sirius?" The speaker pronounced the name like Cirrus, like the cloud. Only one person did that. Sirius turned slowly to face the window he had climbed out through. The smaller boy was leaning out the window, frowning at his older brother.

"Hi, Regulus." Sirius turned away. "I'm watching the clouds." He wrapped his arms around his torso.

"Mum and Dad don't know you come up here. Can you come in? I need you to get down a book for me."

Sirius was concentrating on the marble in his hand. If he bent his mind in the right way, he could make it glow. "Get Dad to reach it for you."

"No," Regulus said from the window.

"Why not? He's taller than I am," Sirius looked at the moon, almost full, risen early. Dusk was just creeping over the horizon.

Regulus hesitated. "Dad scares me." When Sirius didn't respond, he added, "Mum scares me."

Sirius Black faced him suddenly, framed against the sinking sun. His coat flew around him and the marble in his hands glowed white. "Do I scare you?"

"No." Regulus said obstinately.

Sirius combed his hair down with his fingers and walked over to the window. He leveled the roof in front of him as he walked. "Okay, Reg. Where's this book you need?"

The five-year-old led him into the next room. "Up there."

"Here you go, Reg." Sirius handed his younger brother the book and wandered downstairs. He almost bumped into the house-elf, Kreacher, who muttered, "The Mistress and Master would like to speak to you in the drawing room," before tottering upstairs. Sirius wondered how much longer it had to live. Must be older than Mum. He walked down the hall to the drawing room, which was an entirely useless room inhabited by more than its fair share of doilies. His mum and dad were sitting at a small table with an extra chair pulled up. He sat in it.

His dad held a sheaf of papers. His mum leaned forward. "Sirius, we've noticed that you have an exceptional talent for magic." Sirius was silent. "You seem to be able to do any small magic you want to. For example-"

"Where did your coat come from?" His dad interrupted.

Sirius sighed. "It was my shirt. I changed it."

His dad nodded. "Can you change it back?"

Sirius looked at his coat and did the stretch with his mind. The coat shrunk and became his shirt again.

"Remarkable," said his mum. "Most wizard children can do magic without realizing it when they are in stressful or threatening situations. You can perform it at will."

"From what we've seen, it's a large variety of spells, too." His dad said quietly.

"Obviously, you have a lot of potential." His mum watched him carefully. "I think that once your magical education is supposed to start-or maybe earlier-we should hire a tutor for you. No need to send you off to that school when you could get a better education here."

"I don't think so," said Sirius, sliding off his chair. "I'd like to go to Hogwarts. I don't want a tutor. Besides," he added, "I need to make friends my own age. Here it's just Regulus and that Kreacher." Sirius already had a tutor for math, English, French, history, and science. He very rarely saw other children.

"I'd think your mother and I have a better idea of what would be good for you than you do yourself," said Sirius's dad. "Hogwarts has a reputation of letting in those who may not be... fit for the education. We don't want you getting in with the wrong crowd."

"No," said Sirius mildly as his mum's eyes narrowed, "I think I'd rather go to Hogwarts than stay here."

He left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:****I don't own any of it. If I did, would I be writing fanfiction? ...Yes. But I don't own it.**

**Thanks to LoverFaery for reviewing and Story Alerting, and to heiressofanor for Story Alerting.**

Remus's first transformation was mostly pain. The day before, his parents had prepared by emptying the basement, fitting the door with a bolt lock, and casting spells around the house so that even wizards wouldn't be able to hear any howls. They had each given him a hug, and then they had locked him in the basement. Remus waited, wondering when his transformation would take place. He sat on the concrete floor, fidgeting with a small piece of paper. It was a long time later and the paper had fallen to pieces when he felt the first twinges of transformation. It started with bones shifting and growing at incredible speed, with muscles knitting and stretching to keep up, skin pulling, fur springing up everywhere, claws growing out of paw-hands. He felt strong, like he could rip apart another wolf his size. He felt like he could run faster than he had ever dreamed. He ran a lap around the room, and found it was true. His sense of smell was heightened, multiplied even, and his vision was crystal clear. All his senses were so improved that he could feel tiny vibrations in the cement floor- people walking above him. He could hear them, and smell them. _Food._ He could tell there were two distinct scents, and his own. He felt like he knew the people they were connected to, but couldn't remember. In this form he thought less clearly. He ran up the staircase, slammed his body against the door. It didn't move. He could not get at the human prey. He snarled, howled, hated being a wolf, hated being human, ripped at the walls, clawed and bit at his own body, ran as fast as he could around the tiny basement, and finally fell asleep.

The letter from Hogwarts told Remus that he would be a threat to students and would therefore be unenrolled from Hogwarts. Remus told the letter exactly what he thought of its opinion and burned it.

Sirius's mum instisted that he at least be tutored in magic until he began at Hogwarts. Sirius agreed, mostly because he was surprised that his mother did not push tutors replacing Hogwarts. When he asked her about it, she told him, stiffly, that some things had to be learned by socializing with other children. "Otherwise you'd be all alone in this house when your father and I die. That would be quite unbecoming of a Black." Sirius didn't think _alone _sounded so bad.

His tutor, Samuel Rayala, was bald but not old. Sirius learned to pay attention to him, even though his voice was quiet, because he was interested in what he taught and went on tangents often, so that there was always something to learn or discuss.

"Your parents offered to buy you a wand, but you're not actually supposed to own one until you turn eleven. At Hogwarts you'll be taught wanded magic, but since you're already rather proficient in wandless, I think we'll work on that area." Mostly Sirius was taught spellwork, tailored to what he was already doing on his own. But Sirius also learned about wizarding history, magical plants, wild animals, medieval witch persecution, and muggles.

At his first lesson, he made his marble explode. At his second, he mended it. At his third, he got distracted in the middle of a spell and ended up turning his chair into a large rubber balloon. In a few weeks, he could perform levitation. He learned how to make his spells last longer, how to do them without seeing the object he was trying to enchant. At the end of three years, he could cast a Patronus Charm.

Now ten, he let his hair grow to his chin, perfected a disdainful sneer, and started reading muggle magazines he fished out of trashcans. He spent most of his time stretching his magic to the limit, and his mother's patience followed suit. He set all the furniture in the house to chasing Kreacher, and wound up so drained he fainted. It took his mum two hours to break the spell. It took Sirius, after being revived, a week to repair all of the chairs, bureaus, wardrobes, casserole pots, beds, portraits, rugs, and other household miscellanaea.

Hardly a month later, after a heated argument with the daughter of a family friend, he managed to accidently wipe her entire memory blank. His mum flew into a rage; his dad threatened very quietly to send him to the muggle military if anything like that happened again. The instant his mum quieted enough, he fell asleep and didn't wake for three days.

When he did wake, it was to Regulus' voice, asking, "Are you coming down for dinner? Because Mum and Dad want you to get right back to your lessons afterwards."

Sirius sighed. "Regulus," he said, "I want a motorcycle."

"Remus," his father said, "We spoke to Professor Dumbledore yesterday."

"I don't care," said Remus. "It's like you told me. There's too much prejudice. I'm better off homeschooled."

"Remus, the headmaster thinks that if you agree to certain precautions on the day of the full moon each month, he can grant you a place at Hogwarts." His father's eyes were shining and his voice was a little choked up.

"But I won't have any friends," said Remus. Not that he had any friends here... "Everyone will be afraid..."

"Remus, nobody will have to know. It will be between you and Dumbledore and the school nurse."

Remus looked away. " I don't know if I want to."

"Remus, it's the only thing you've been looking forward to for the last three years!"

"I don't think I can do it."

"Do what? Sure you can. You're brilliant. You can do anything you put your mind to." He sighed. "Look, go for a semester, okay? Give it a try. And if you hate it, we'll figure something else out. But it's the best wizarding school in the country, and Dumbledore is a genius."

Remus looked at the padded, padlocked door that led to the basement. He shook his hair a little so that it covered his eyes. It had grown from its kindergarten bowl cut into a longish, uneven mop that fell into his eyes. It made him feel like a lion. Sometimes Remus wished he could turn into a lion instead of a wolf. Most of the time he wished he never had to transform at all. _But I don't get that choice. I have a choice here. _

His father leaned forward and brushed Remus' hair back. "What do you think?"

"Can I think about it?"

"Absolutely." The man looked relieved. Remus smiled and turned instinctively to go to the park before remembering that he avoided that place ever since his accident. Instead he headed upstairs to crawl onto the roof.

"Your mother wants me to teach you how to better control your magic. I didn't like her tone," said Rayala, smiling. "But she has a point. You need to learn to keep your magic separate from your emotions."

"Maybe I should tell her I did those things on purpose." Sirius said.

"Did you really?" Rayala laughed. "The point remains that both times you completely drained yourself. And I have reason to suspect that you've come close to doing so much more frequently than that. Apparently none of your family finds it odd that you sleep fourteen-hour nights. Ten-year-old boys should get somewhere between eight and eleven hours. You're obviously building up an energy deficit of some sort."

"How do you know how much sleep I'm getting?" Sirius asked, suspicious.

"Legilimancy. A very complex and difficult branch of magic, which I'm not at liberty to teach you. So to begin today's lesson, I'm going to need you to do that breathing excercise we used-"

"Hold on," said Sirius. "Is legi-what some sort of sleep monitoring spell?"

"It's a spell that can reveal someone's thoughts or thought patterns to the user," his tutor said patiently. "To an accomplished Legilimens like me, determining sleep patterns from this information is easy enough."

"You can read my mind," said Sirius flatly.

"Well, it's not _quite_ that simple," said Rayala. "It's more like I can tell the general gist of what you're thinking. If I use it as a direct spell, with an incantation, I can see memories and thoughts. And no, I can't teach you. For one thing, it's too advanced. Now to continue with the lesson."

As Sirius did his breathing excercises, he decided to teach himself that spell.

Remus's letter arrived three weeks before his eleventh birthday. It had a formal invitation, a list of materials, and a sheet of paper that was most certainly not in the letters other students would receive. In loopy handwriting, it read:

_Remus Lupin: In order to ensure your safety and comfort during your periods of illness, a small house has been constructed for you just off school grounds, accessable only by a well-guarded tunnel. The school nurse, Madame Pomfrey, will escort you there on the evening of the full moon each month. _

_After the school feast, please see your Head of House for further information. _

_ Best regards, _

_ Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

Remus had agreed to his father's terms: A "trial" semester, after which he would be free to drop out for homeschooling.

"There's a very possible danger of alienation with werewolves, especially those bitten at a young age who never learn to make friends," his mother told him as they browsed Flourish & Blots for schoolbooks. She kept her voice low. "This is an important step for you."

"But what if I don't make any friends?" Remus asked, locating a textbook (_The Young Spellcaster's Guide to Elementary Defense_) and putting it in their shopping bag. "What's next on the list?"

"_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. _Look under _S_. And honey, of course you'll make friends. Don't worry. Nobody else knows anyone, either. They'll all want to be your friend."

Finding _Fantastic Beasts_, Remus idly flipped through it until an entry near the back caught his eye. _Werewolves_. Remus shut the book and put it in the bag before he could read any more. "There's something wrong with seeing yourself listed in a book of animals," he remarked to his mother, keeping his voice steady. She caught him up in a hug. "That's not who you are, Reem." Her voice was somehow fierce. "You're so much more than that. You can't let your life be defined by an illness. You can't let that one thing dictate your life." She held him at arm's length. "I'm proud of you," she said, and she looked it.

"What for?" Remus didn't want both of them to start crying in the bookstore, but things were heading that way.

"You're going to Hogwarts. You're going to give yourself a chance at having a normal life, and friends. So many children are lycanthropic, and so few have gone to Hogwarts. You'll be great. You'll be fine."

Remus hugged his mother tightly and then let go, moving towards the Charms section. "What's the next title?"

"Sirius, what exactly is a motorcycle?" Regulus, now nine, asked his older brother.

Sirius pulled a slim magazine from his bookshelf. "Here's a picture." He flipped to a page with a large, shiny photo of a metal Muggle machine.

Regulus stared. "I don't get it."

"Muggles use them to travel. They're really terrific. They have only two wheels, and an engine, and they're large and shiny. I want to enchant one so it flies."

"Whoa," said Regulus, eyes wide.

"That's right," said Sirius. "But they're pretty expensive, so I'll probably get an old one and fix it up." There was no way his mum would pay for something so completely separate from her pure-blooded world.

"Can I go on it?" Regulus asked, entranced, staring at the magazine photo.

"Sure, but I probably won't get one for a while." Sirius smiled at his brother's awe. Turning to his wardrobe, he started packing for school, even though it was three weeks away.


End file.
